TR - Tooth Rock - The Biggest Sandstone Spire in the Country?

Well put, sam.

What if they walk backwards?

This has been an especially painful few days in my life, but feel calm enough to add my .02 now.

I first spied the line which would become MSTS in Fall of 2002 after an aborted attempt on another line on the formation. I had a feeling that with enough sweat and blood it could become a decent climb.

Having spent around 150 days out at Tooth over the last decade it is reasonable to suggest that few climbers (other than WJ) know this area as well. I've survived hits by rockfall, a scorpion sting and even the summit during a major winter storm with heavy rain. I have learned a lot about myself, my partners and life in the desert from this place.

After the free ascent I naively let my partners convince me the mags needed to know about our greatness. This foolish move has been one of the greatest regrets of a 30 years climbing career. It did teach me a lot about the climbing media and those who choose to make their career out of exploiting a finite, communal resource.

For a number of years after the free ascent I was able to meet or converse with all of the parties attempting the route. Some of those folks have become close friends. We all sort of informally agreed that Tooth would last longer for future generations if it were kept out of the spotlight.

When Ben Kiessel started sniffing around last year for beta a number of us panicked. Ben and Brad are notorious for detailed, lengthy trip reports of little known areas. I begged Ben not to publish a huge trip report on the internet. I love a good trip report as much as the next person, just prefer to share it with friends and people that I actually know.

The world seems to get smaller everyday and our internet is hastening the demise of so many magical areas.

To those of you who have become friends and supporters I want to thank you very much. There are still a couple wild areas left and I look forward to exploring them with you.

To the younger generations looking to escape the complications of modern society I am sorry. I feel as if I have failed you.

To my mentors, especially Kor, Baxter, McCray and Webster: I should have listened closer when you told me to be careful with whom I share secrets.

To Tooth Rock: Thank you for being a friend, a mentor, a place of worship. You are the closest place to a church I have ever found. I feel terrible that it worked out like this. I hope you accept my humble apology.

The following piece was published in Alpinist. Please share it with the world, but I would like to ask that you contact me before any print publication. I was thinking about today when I wrote paragraph 3:

The Last Guidebook

1.

I tiptoe up a sweeping slab. The quarter-inch bolt is a rust-colored spot only a dozen edges below. Dark granite leaves a chill on my fingertips while my stomach knots. A pair of ravens squawk from the cliff top; my partner is swallowed in tangle of brush. Something glimmers as I creep toward RP cracks: A new bolt on an ancient line? I crawl onto it, sigh, then clip several more. After a few ropelengths, we reach a shiny rap anchor forty feet from the summit. We climb on. Far off in the distance, a train whistles, and then the dunes are still.

2.

The full moon lies heavy on the eastern horizon. Warm Mojave air engulfs the truck. I look back toward the mountains, where the desert prophets of the Syndicato Granitica once chased visions across empty domes and unwritten walls. Driving down Route 66 beyond Peach Springs, I blare the oldies station in their tribute. I imagine them motoring along this lonely highway in the 1970s, years before the interstate—back when nuts were just coming into fashion and when chalk was still considered aid. What will it be like when it’s all been Bolted, Mapped and Published? Who will write the last guidebook? What will it be called? A boulder casts an enormous silhouette against the dull glow. I pull the truck over and walk into the velvet sky. I breathe in a million stars.

3.

Wind wails through the canyon, with the hope of spring. I’m climbing into the heart of a sandstorm on an unexplored cliff. Dust chokes ears, nose and eyes. Half-blinded, I hang on the crease where the sky and stone collide. The rhythmic tap of my hammer ends, and I prepare the bolt. Red powder oozes from the hole, then swirls out into infinity. Suddenly, it looks like blood. Am I, too, murdering the impossible? There’s a mark now, where before there was none. A pair of Bighorn sheep spot me, then sprint beyond the vanishing point. It’s as if I started the destruction of this secret wild land. Gumdrop-size hail bombards us. Is this my legacy? We race toward the overhang in search of shelter.

4.

On a winter night, I stare into my computer screen. “Feds Plan to Remove All Bolts from Santa Claus Chimney,” reads the headline. “No Anchors Allowed in Powell’s Canyon,” proclaims the order. “Officials Remove All Bolts from Sacred Cave,” declares the blog. “Legal Concerns Prompt Landowner to Close Access,” announces the magazine. I weigh these lines against the memories of thick ripe air, sunlight on skin, hundred-mile views. Outside, snowflakes drift through darkness, covering fiery towers with a thick blanket of cold, new white. Can freedom be taken before it is even imagined?

5.

I amble beside an elder mentor through a crisp spring morning. We marvel at the trickle of water in this wash—a rare gift. Quartz twinkles in the sun; we’re dazed by a wonderland of rock. Spires of desert junkoid form mute sentinels of our passage. When coyotes start singing, we giggle. Above our heads, a nameless crack floats for pitches into open azure. We whisper over lunch, gaze up once more—then walk away.

6.

Desperate to beat the midday’s inferno, we’ve been awake for hours. Already a condor screams by in the infinite rays of the dawn fire. Almost extinct, this bird still manages to thrive in the stony nothing of the high desert. The night sky fades through finer shades of blue—at last into light. Morning splashes over rock with the promise of something simple, unmapped, ever new: another day. I tie in, match gazes with my partner and begin to climb.

—Albert Newman, Canyon, Arizona

Thanks for listening to my rant. I am going to brush off these tears and take a long walk in the desert...

i guess i find it sort of ironic that your 'mentors' haven't exactly kept the cat in the bag about their experiences either. what's that old saying? two men can keep a secret if all three of them are dead? or something like that...

Albert

You are obviously sincere in your feelings for the place. I'm sorry this pains you. I do feel strongly that though I personally read of Tooth Rock back in 1988, the cat wasn't really let out of the bag until the article in Alpinist. Brads pics are great and may sail a thousand ships (though I doubt it), but I guarantee you that Brad and Ben and Matt would have gone to the Tooth with or without your info. Though they may not see eye to eye with you on keeping certain spots secret, they are true desert rats. All of them have over 100 towers to their names and Brads list is the most pure I know of other than Ralphs. The fact they called you for beta only shows they look for info, not that they need lots of info to do a climb.

I've stated my opinion on the photos... they should'nt, in my opinion take from anyone elses adventure. I have known and know many great climbers... Skinner, Bridwell, Hill, Garibotti... and all of them garner as much info as they can before a major ascent. I climbed a remote spire in the desert this spring and I wore people out with questions... it was only 3 pitches. But in the end I had to deal with the approach, the load, the climbing, the conservation of water, the heat, the cold, the dark, and the sand in my eyes the next night, in my own way. It wasn't as pure as the first ascent, but it was still my adventure.

And on another level I'd like to say I've been there and it changed me. I got to be one of the first to climb on the Phra Nang Peninsula, and, no thanks to me, I have watched it go from a remote, jungle-meets-ocean paradise with no power in your thatch hut with only a few climbers, to a full-on tourist attraction where reggae booms in the distance all day and climbers, fresh out of the a.c., wait in line while virtually every worthy line has been climbed 1000 times. For a while my friends and I tried to find another place to replace it. We found that somehow the three of us had discovered paradise on our first trips to Thailand.

There were lots of ups and downs, with the biggest downer being that I realized I could never replace those first few years on the higher walls of southern Thailand. But it has changed for me now. I have adventures... much like yours and almost in the same place. They cannot replace what I had back then, but nothing will. Sometime had to be the best in my life and that was it. But I have learned to love the fact that so many other people are getting to have great adventures in Thailand BECAUSE I put up a bunch of routes that they get to climb. Their adventure is perhaps not as great as mine was back in the day, or maybe it is... who am I to say how they feel. The point is that the place is not ruined by my actions or them showing up... its just different. And when they come and say how great it is, I have to agree.... it still is... its just different.

I think you can count on your view of Tooth Rock being different from now on. However, you could have counted on that even if there was no Alpinist article or PiquaClimber pictures. It is different because you have already had been there and done that.

slim wrote:i guess i find it sort of ironic that your 'mentors' haven't exactly kept the cat in the bag about their experiences either.

Au contraire, his mentors have plenty of places they have been and not disclosed to the masses, as well as numerous places previously unknown that they have shared.

I feel your pain Albert but it's also the way of the world due to our over populated planet. And there is no question that our electronic age hastens information dissemination.

Excellent trip report. Gotta love all those bolts!

Albert,

You could have gone to 1000 other remote canyons that were not in view of the road and didn't happen to contain the largest sandstone tower in the country. You could have left the route as a choss aid route and been satisfied with the adventure. I guarantee we wouldn't be having this discussion.

Instead, you installed dozens of bolts, trundled thousands of pounds of rock, tamed the approach, and created a free route to your specifications.

You brought the hammer to the Tooth. Not Ben or Brad. Don't point the finger at them and accuse them of "hastening the demise of magical areas." If that's happening (and I'm not saying it is), you're the one that's responsible. "Before removing the speck from thy neighbor's eye, attend to the plank in thine own."

Albert,
What did you think would happen when you put up the route? Are you so selfish that you put in all those bolts and eased the approach only for yourself?
I doubt it.
You (probably) did it because Tooth Rock meant enough to you that it was worth all that work. Don't despair when others (who should be grateful for the work you did) follow in your footsteps. Their experience doesn't take away from yours. There's lots of stone in the desert, you were lucky enough to have been the first to touch some of it. Be grateful. Climb hard. Have fun.

This comes down to respecting the wishes of people that climb in a particular area, most notably the person that has put up routes. When I go climb in particular places I respect the style in which that place was established.

I believe this to be the best way to thank those that put money and time into route development. Brad got to climb a spectacular route, he should give thanks by respecting a very simple request.

Boo Hoo! Maybe if you would cry more in remote desert climbing areas, we wouldn't have to carry so much water.

If this conversation were limited to those who have at least been in the area of Tooth Rock, I'm certain the tone and topic of this discussion would be quite different. If you claim that this place is public because you can see it from the road, you haven't walked all the way back to put your hand on the rock.

The Vermilion Cliffs are not easily accessible. They are not friendly. They will not be overrun. They also, as is evident in the trip report Mr. Brandewie posted, make mockery of those who approach them in a cavalier manner. I do not recommend falling in the VC. The sound of the wind through a spinning hanger usually follows the bolt's placement by only a few years.

I met and spoke with Albert Newman, at his request, following my ascent of MSTS in 08. He can be erratic in his behavior and withholding of information. He got pissed at the good friend that gave me information about the route, but he can also be generous. In other words, he's a classic desert rat who happens to have a list of new routes to his name that I'm sure exceeds Brandewie's contribution to the community. The fact that Newman chose to publish information (however nebulous) regarding the completion of MSTS confounds his argument for sequestering additional information about the route, but I can't fathom why Brandewie would blatantly disregard his request to keep this place quiet(ish).

What is the motivation for a blog? Why would others defend what is necessarily a selfish and self-aggrandizing behavior that flies in the face of the wishes of those who created what Brandewie sought to advertise? The internet is no Camp 4 fire circle. It ain't Happy Valley campground. And it certainly doesn't have much to do with some wind-swept, sun-baked cliff line in northern Arizona.

The climbing world has grown exponentially over the course of my time in it, and I am only 30. The values of the climbing community have always been varied, but they seem to have slipped into those that the larger society expresses (ie. self-promotion, advertisement, and devaluation of private personal experience).

I learned my ethics from older climbers: a) climb more than you talk about climbing. b) climb better than you talk about climbing. c) respect those who came and climbed before you. d) don't diminish the adventure.

If you relish your opportunity to adventure in wild places, tell your friends while you work, while you climb, while you share some brews. The sharing of information in written form is an act with enormous and unpredictable hidden costs, as we've witnessed throughout this controversy.

Travel well.

Thank you everyone for the comments. I especially want to recognize those of you who have climbed the route and those of you with many years of establishing first ascents. I was finally able to read the text and would like to clarify a few items.

I want to start by pointing out that it is a heavy responsibility to pioneer a climbing area. I have made many mistakes along the way and have tried to learn from these errors. We are losing climbing areas at an alarming rate, we all have to be more responsible stewards.

As for the approach in question, it is an extremely sensitive parking area in which I received permission to park after having met several locals. The recommended parking and approach is outlined in Desert Rock. In addition, I did not install any pipes or ladders. That was all in place for a water pipeline to Marble Canyon Lodge. I did replace existing ropes and added one bolt and a 4' piece of rope above the rickety ladder because when it collapses a fall would be fatal. The approach to the base of the route actually got far more difficult after a torrential thunderstorm the first week of October 2010. I used to have a funny picture of a gear stash we had to dig out from the sand after that storm.

My reasons for "cryptic information" were twofold. First, the more time I spent exploring it dawned that to keep the area a rugged adventure the less information out there the better. It took me around 25 days effort, a bullet hole in my truck and a trip to the hospital to finally reach the summit of that beast. Along this journey over 18 months I learned that part of the benefit to the climb was the process. I wanted others to suffer a bit and as a result hopefully learn more about themselves and the desert along the way. I happen to believe that delayed gratification is sometimes a valuable life skill, particularly in this age of entitlement and instant me.

For example, the men who got the 4th ascent of this route were from Phoenix (5 hour drive). On their first trip they hiked to the base and found the route. On their second trip they completed MSTS proper and rapped from the Football Field. I met them on their way up to their third attempt and provided them with sketchy enough details to complete the upper portions of the LLR. The next day was incredibly windy (40mph plus) and I was worried all day until they called. They had successfully climbed the route, in the process completing the first car to car ascent of Tooth Rock. I have since climbed with them and done extensive interviews on the experience. They repeatedly told me that having little beta and no topo provided them with a far more rewarding adventure.

The second reason for "cryptic information" was because a quick Google search informed me as to the tactics of the "D-Town boys". I knew they were going to publish a sprayfest on their blog. Critics please answer this (I am especially listening to those of you who have spent 60 days and thousands of dollars establishing a single route): If you cared deeply about preserving a wild experience would you willingly share all the information you had on an area? If you know that someone is going to take your blood, sweat and money to use it to their own advantage how willingly would you share? Call me erratic if you will.

I repeat, over and over again I asked Ben Kiessel to not publish anything and he told me he was forwarding all my emails to his partners. It should come as no surprise to Brad, Ian and the rest of the gangsters that I am upset. If this TR was their way of saying "thank you", well a kick to the balls and spitting in my face would have been a lot easier to stomach. Enough on that topic.

Continuing on to the TR and a couple minor factual errors:
It is called Lowery Spring, not Leary. I believe Buck Lowery opened Marble Canyon Lodge in the early 1920s when they built Navajo Bridge.

The "Eagles Nest" is a belay on the Lost Love Route. I recall seeing evidence of an ancient bird nest the two times I passed through that horrid spot. I could be mistaken, but I believe James and I were calling that spot on MSTS "The Bat Cave." If there are sticks there now maybe that means a condor is nesting.

As for the bolts. A few have bothered me for a long time. Those will be removed. I am likely removing another 5-6 or more bolts. We made the route too accessible I have realized after doing all the other lines except one on the formation. It is already a serious route, but will be even more so in the very near future.

Lastly and perhaps most importantly, there are 6-7 individuals who helped haul ropes, food and gear to the base of the route. (R.I.P. Matt Kelly, I am sorry we didn't get to climb it together). It would have taken a lot longer and been far more painful to complete the route if not for the generous help and support of these friends. I also want to thank all of you who have written Brad directly and asked him to remove the report.

Those of you gearing up to attack me, please take a moment to read "The Last Guidebook" in my initial post. If part of climbing is about growing and improving, this route has taught me several life chapters.

Albert Newman wrote:If part of climbing is about growing and improving, this route has taught me several life chapters.

And, in my opinion, you'd be going back and un-learning a few of those chapters if you go down the path of removing bolts from the route because you deem it "too accessible".

You found, established, and climbed what appears to be a magnificent route and it left quite an impression with you. Why can't you just leave it alone now and move on with your life?

More Rant Than Stone

Albert,

I have personally, on more than one occasion, spent more than 60 days, thousands of dollars and hundreds of hours of back-breaking labor establishing a multi-pitch route.

My motivation, besides the enjoyment of going where no climber has gone before, is to put up routes that can be enjoyed by average climbers and I have no problem with them sharing their experience on the routes with others.

Well said A. Frost. That is exactly what I was thinking but could not articulate my thoughts.

Ed - Everyone climbs for different reasons. Your motivation for developing routes should be respected, as should Albert's. There is enough rock out there for everyone to climb for different reasons, and for very different kinds of climbing areas to exist. As long as people respect the diversity of different areas, everyone gets some of what they want. In this case, someone's preference for publicizing was imposed on a place that has traditionally been off-the-radar.

We should respect people's requests for different kinds of climbing areas. Let well-documented sport climbing areas be, as well as no-beta adventure areas.

Albert -

The bolts are partially yours to pull, but you might want to check with James, too, since he did a great deal of the grunt work to put that route up and led most of it.

So make sure to lead it, skipping the bolts you intend to pull before you pull them. Otherwise, how's it your route if you can't climb it in the state in which you intend to leave it?

The VC is no one's.

Ed Wright wrote:Albert, I have personally, on more than one occasion, spent more than 60 days, thousands of dollars and hundreds of hours of back-breaking labor establishing a multi-pitch route. My motivation, besides the enjoyment of going where no climber has gone before, is to put up routes that can be enjoyed by average climbers and I have no problem with them sharing their experience on the routes with others.

I should add that on the other hand I know of a beautiful sandstone area where I will never climb nor tell anyone about.

OMG what a bunch of drama queens you all are.